


You Light The Spark (In My Bonfire Heart)

by noangelsinthegarrison



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noangelsinthegarrison/pseuds/noangelsinthegarrison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But I – ” Cas takes a shaky breath and his shoulders slump just a little. He looks confused now, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows almost enough to make Dean smile, “I thought you - everyone knew.”</p><p>Dean just stares.</p><p>“Dean, everyone knew. It’s in the books.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Cas sighs, frustrated and small, “The books, Dean. Chuck’s books. They mention it several times.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Light The Spark (In My Bonfire Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [my tumblr](http://forgetmenotcas.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title inspired by 'Bonfire Heart' by James Blunt (because I have no imagination for titles at all sorry :/)

“Oh my God, Dean, what the hell did you do?” Sam says, peering blearily out of his own bedroom at 2am, staring between Dean standing confused in the hallway and Cas’s bedroom door, which had slammed loudly enough to wake the whole of Lebanon not 30 seconds ago.

Dean shrugs helplessly, “I have no idea.”

Sam glares tiredly at him and brushes his hair out of his face, “Yeah, well you obviously did something.”

Dean bristles. Just one more thing Sam’s blaming him for and he wasn’t even there.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause everything’s always my fault isn’t it, Sammy?” Dean snaps. Sam sighs, and Dean is treated to a second door being slammed in his face.

Dean lets out a grunt of frustration and slams his own. He paces restlessly around his room for all of a minute before he’s storming out again and banging on Cas’s bedroom door.

“Cas!” He shouts, and when there’s no answer he barges his way in, glad that Cas was apparently too angry at whatever the fuck he did to lock the door.

Cas is leaning against his desk, knuckles white where they grip the edges and eyes shining with unshed tears. It’s new, Dean thinks. He’s never seen Cas cry in anger before.

“Please get out, Dean.” Cas says, voice strained with a forced calm. It’s lower than usual, laced with thunder, and Dean knows it’s a voice that should send him running. But he’s angry himself now, so he slams Cas’s bedroom door shut and glares at Cas until he stands straight to face him, meeting his eyes with steel.

“I’ll leave as soon as you tell me what the hell got your panties in a twist,” he says, arms folding across his chest.

Cas laughs. It’s a short, sharp, bitter thing that stings somewhere in Dean’s chest. He crosses his arms tighter and ignores it.

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Dean. Were you trying to make a point? Or are you really just that thoughtless?”

Okay, Dean’s officially just confused now.

“Cas, man, I honestly don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Or perhaps you  _were_  thinking and you just didn’t  _care_  about my feelings,” Cas continues, talking over Dean, his voice shaking with hurt and the kind of fury Dean hasn’t seen since that time in the alleyway years ago, “was that it, Dean? You thought you’d kiss that girl with me sitting  _right there_  and – ”

“Wait,” Dean holds up his hands, “ _That’s_  what this is about? That random chick from the bar? Cas what the hell, you liked her or something? Because you could have just said – ”

“Get out, Dean.” Cas interrupts. Voice quiet and something in his eyes sends a shiver up Dean’s spine. He’s seen that look before, directed at demons and ghosts and vampires, but never at him. He swallows.

“What?”

“I said, get out. Now.”

Dean stands there, staring at him. He’s missing something here, he must be. Cas is looking at him like he just personally sold him out to the angels and all Dean had done between this and Cas smiling up at him from over a beer had been to make out with some random drunk chick at the bar down the street.

“Cas,” he says, voice as soothing as he can make it without his own hurt fighting its way through, “Cas, please, I need you to explain to me what’s happening right now.”

Cas laughs again and it’s a dangerous sound. He shakes his head and his fists clench at his sides, “You have some nerve, Dean Winchester. To practically  _insist_  that I come out with you, only to do that right in front of me like I’m not even there. Was that your intention all along, Dean? Were you really that desperate to prove my feelings unrequited?”

What?

“Feelings? Cas, I honestly don’t know what y–”

Cas’s voice is raised for the first time in the conversation, the calm fury replaced with something wilder, “Oh you  _know_  I’m in love with you, Dean, so don’t pretend like – ”

“What?” The loud thumping of Dean’s heart sounds almost deafening in the sudden silence. He’s pretty sure his mouth has fallen open and he almost wants to turn and run. “Cas, what did you just say?”

There’s a beat, and then Cas’s eyes go wide and his cheeks turn red so fast that Dean almost gets head rush just looking at it.

“You – you didn’t know?”

Dean just stares at him, his brain scrambling to catch up but he’s stuck in a loop.  _I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you._

“But I – ” Cas takes a shaky breath and his shoulders slump just a little. He looks confused now, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows almost enough to make Dean smile, “I thought you -  _everyone_ knew.”

Dean just stares.

“Dean,  _everyone_  knew. It’s in the books.”

What?

“What?”

Cas sighs, frustrated and small, “The books, Dean. Chuck’s books. They mention it several times.”

Dean nods distractedly and he knows he’s going to want to ask more about that later (because since when does Cas know how to use the internet?) but right now he’s still not really thinking much past  _in love, in love, in love._

“You really didn’t know?” Cas asks eventually, finally snapping Dean out of his own head.

“No,” he replies weakly, “I didn’t.”

Cas looks down and away. “Oh.”

Another beat of silence and Dean is stepping forward, still not close enough to touch but close enough to startle Cas’s eyes back to his.

“How long?” Dean asks, more demanding than he intends, harsh when he meant it to be soft.

Cas’s shoulders slump a little more. He shrugs. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

Cas sighs, “I don’t know, Dean. A long time, I think.”

“And you honestly thought if I knew I’d still be wasting my time kissing whichever drunk chick would take me? You think I’d still be flirting my way to meaningless hook-ups?”

Cas sighs again and shakes his head, “I wasn’t asking that you abstain, Dean,” he says, anger trickling back into the undercurrent of his voice, “But I don’t think it’s unreasonable of me to ask that you refrain from such behaviours in front of me.”

Dean laughs then, short and involuntary, “Cas, you stupid son of a bitch,” Cas’s frown deepens and he closes his eyes. It only serves to make Dean smile wider, “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I wouldn’t be kissing them if I could be kissing you instead?”

Cas’s eyes fly open and Dean’s smile softens at the look of absolute disbelief on his face. He steps forward again, slowly as if approaching a skittish animal, and rests a tentative hand on Cas’s waist.

Cas looks as though he’s using every bit of his concentration on breathing. His face is flushed again, getting darker the closer Dean gets and the firmer Dean rubs his thumb in soothing circles against his waist, and he’s looking at Dean as though he’s still waiting for a punch line.

“Dean,” he says, and his voice cracks, just slightly, “Dean, I don’t under–”

Dean kisses him.

It’s weird, at first, how  _not weird_  it is to be kissing Cas. His lips are nervous and a little chapped beneath his, but they’re soft and warm and after the first few seconds of stunned stillness,  _eager_  in their movements against his. His stubble catches and rubs against Dean’s and Dean sighs at the feeling, pulling Cas closer against him and wrapping his arms tighter around his waist.

When Dean’s hands find the little patch of skin under the hem of Cas’s shirt, he skims his fingers across the goosebumps forming there and Cas shudders against him, vibrating like a violin string being played for the first time, and the noise Cas makes, soft and needy, makes Dean smile against his lips.

And then Cas’s arms are winding tight around his neck and there’s a tongue tentatively running along the momentarily upturned curve of his bottom lip and  _holy **shit**  that’s Cas’s  **tongue**_ and Dean suddenly feels like he’s never been kissed before in his entire life. It’s dizzying and electrifying and exciting in a way he doesn’t think it’s ever been before and it’s all he can do to suck that tongue all the way into his mouth, swallowing the small noises Cas makes and holding them close to his heart, letting them warm his ears and curl his toes.

They break apart eventually, out of breath but barely pulling away far enough to make a difference. Their foreheads are touching and Dean smiles again when Cas bumps his nose against Dean’s, eyes still shut and lips parted. He looks beautiful and Dean can’t help but lift a hand from under Cas’s shirt to trace the line of a delicate cheekbone.

Cas opens his eyes slowly, as if almost unsure whether he should and Dean knows what it’s like to feel like something is too good to be true.  _Good things do happen, Dean_ , Cas had said once. And now he’s here, years later, looking up at Dean like he can’t quite believe he had been right. So Dean kisses him again, sweet and chaste, and then again on the crinkles by his eyes when he smiles, rather dazedly up at him.

Dean smiles back for a second before remembering, somewhat distantly, that there’s something he’s annoyed about, and he puts up a half-hearted attempt to pull away. He only gets far enough away that their faces aren’t touching anymore, one hand still under Cas’s shirt on the small of his back and the other sliding away from his face to rest on a shoulder, but it’s far enough that Cas blinks some of the glaze away from his eyes and pouts just a little.

“You asshole,” Dean says, soothing the skin of Cas’s back with his thumb to take the bite out of it.

“What?” Cas blinks, only half listening (the other half staring dark-eyed at Dean’s lips).

Dean huffs a laugh and squeezes Cas’s shoulder a little, jostling him just enough to gain more of his attention, ripping Cas’s focus back to his eyes, “You thought I knew about you and just didn’t give a shit? You thought I really wouldn’t say anything? That I’d make out with random chicks right in front of you just to make some kind of douchebag point? What kind of dick do you think I am, Cas?”

And saying it, he thinks he should probably be a little hurt, and maybe on some level, somewhere deep down, he is. But for once he hasn’t got space between the good emotions to feel anything else at all.

Cas pulls a face at him that Dean is sure he must have learnt from Sam, it’s the same kind of exasperated, I’m-so-done-with-your-shit-I-don’t-know-why-I-love-you, face that he’s been throwing at Dean for years.

“Dean,” he says, “Are you trying to suggest that I was wrong to assume you wouldn’t voluntarily instigate a discussion regarding personal and… delicate feelings?”

Dean rolls his eyes, “You really think I wouldn’t do that before unnecessarily hurting your feelings? Dude, even if I didn’t feel the same way that would have been a dick move, even for me.”

Cas’s face softens then, eyes going wide and disbelieving again like having Dean’s tongue in his mouth moments ago wasn’t proof enough.

“And do you?” He asks, and Dean leans forward to brush their noses together again.

“Do I what?” He smiles, greedy for the sound of Cas’s shallow breathing and the slight tremble of his arms around his neck.

“Feel the same?” Cas answers, sounding almost painfully hopeful; hesitant despite the fact Dean’s breath is dancing across his still wet lips and Dean’s hands are playing melodies against the knobs of his spine.

But Dean gets this too. He gets not letting yourself have faith in something that seems too good to be true. He gets guarding yourself against hoping too soon and he gets not daring to believe you can actually have what you’ve been wanting. So he slides a hand up to cup Cas’s jaw and he doesn’t make a joke, and a warm hope flutters in his chest like wings that maybe this means he can have this.

“Yeah Cas,” he says and Cas’s smile plays his heart strings like a harp, “I feel the same.”


End file.
